


Banana Moon (is shining in the sky)

by Byrcca



Series: Little Trip to Heaven [6]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen, post Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 12:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17787083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrcca/pseuds/Byrcca
Summary: Voyager is home and Tom and B’Elanna are slowly settling into parenthood when B’Elanna recieves a visit from an old acquaintance with an offer.





	Banana Moon (is shining in the sky)

**Author's Note:**

> It’s an idea I’ve been mulling for a while. 
> 
> Thanks to Caseyptah for the scene shuffle and to CaptAcorn for the keys to the house.

Everyone was out, busy with errands or workplace demands. Miral was asleep again, and B’Elanna had found herself in an oasis of quiet inside the large, rambling house the Paris family referred to as _homebase._ When she and Tom had first arrived at the Paris home she’d been stunned. A huge, three-storey, wood cladded Queen Anne, it had made B’Elanna’s jaw drop. It looked more like a mansion from a storybook than anyone’s _house_. She thought of the small, cramped, prefabricated dwelling that she’d shared with her mother on Kessick and shook her head. You could fit five or six of those tiny, colourless boxes in Tom’s childhood home. The place had a _turret_ for God’s sake! The only thing that kept it from being intimidating was the cheerful yellow paint and pristine white trim. 

They’d been back in the Alpha Quadrant for two weeks. They had remained on _Voyager_ as long as they could as they accustomed themselves to their new baby, fending off visitors while they bonded as a family. Some of _Voyager’s_ crew, the ‘fleeters, had disembarked almost immediately, dropping in to say goodbye, to peek into the cradle and promise to keep in touch. Janeway and Chakotay and half of B’Elanna’s engineering staff had taken their turn, even Tuvok had pronounced Miral an ‘exceptional specimen’ and wished them well. 

Tom’s parents had visited them too, and B’Elanna had been a little overwhelmed by the hugs and tears. She wasn’t touchy-feely as a rule, and her emotional estrangement from her own mother had put a physical distance between them even while they were living under the same roof as a teenager. She wasn’t used to being enfolded in bear hugs, and being kissed on the cheek, having her hair petted. 

Owen had beamed aboard _Voyager_ within moments of their arrival in Sector 001, had met her and Miral before she was even an hour old. B’Elanna recalled the tears in his eyes as he held his granddaughter, the tenderness of his expression as he looked at his own child, now a father himself. And she had to wonder, had Owen Paris changed during his ten-year estrangement from his son, or was Tom’s perception of his father skewed by childhood grudges and resentment?

Tom’s sister, Moira, had waited until they’d moved into the house, then had come with her spouse and her three boisterous young boys. B’Elanna had once again endured hugs and kisses and tears. She wondered if Kathleen, making her way from Rymus Prime at warp eight, would be as effusive. At least she would be expecting it. 

Tom had planned to meet an old friend for lunch who, upon learning that Tom was married and a new father, had extended the invitation to all three of them. B’Elanna had declined—she’d had enough of meeting new people—and instead had replied to a query from her old Academy Professor, Paul Chapman, and invited him to visit her at the Paris house in Pacific Heights. Tom had offered to cancel his plans and stay home to give her moral support, and B’Elanna had been tempted, but Tom deserved an afternoon out by himself, and since Miral was nursing every two hours it was easier to send him off with a kiss and the promise of diaper duty when he returned. 

Professor Chapman’s message had piqued her interest. Really, aside from his own curiosity, she couldn’t imagine why he’d want to see her. True, Janeway had surprised her at the beginning of their journey home by telling her that he had put a letter in her file, a formal recommendation stating that he would back her application should she wish to return to the Academy. But that was ten years ago, and the thought of going back, becoming a cadet again, was laughable. If he’d thought she’d challenged his theories back then… 

As kind and welcoming as Tom’s parents were, and as wonderful and amazing and blissfully exhausting as new-motherhood was, she longed for company, distraction. She wanted to talk about something besides diapers and feedings and tiny fingers. Plus, she was curious. And a teeny tiny little part of her wanted to rub Chapman’s nose in her rank: chief engineer. It was petty and childish, and didn’t really reflect the emotional growth she’d achieved in the last decade, but she wanted to see his face, wanted to hear his approval. 

So she’d said yes to his request to speak with her and had rummaged through the kitchen searching for fruit and cake and a carafe for coffee, and had set them out on the coffee table beside the bassinet where her baby was sleeping peacefully.

She stared down at her daughter (how surreal!) and smiled. Miral was lying on her back in her bassinet, her fine, dark hair sticking up like a shocked monkey. Her face was turned to the side, one full, fat cheek smushed into the sheet, the other round and smooth, arching from her jaw to under her eye. Her lips were pursed, puckered, and her mouth was moving rhythmically, making little suckling motions. She would wake up hungry. 

Of all the wondrous things they’d seen and experienced in the Delta Quadrant, she was the most astonishing, hands down. A part of both of them, of all of them, the embodiment of their love and commitment to each other, of their hope for the future. 

B’Elanna’s eyes misted over. She felt a sob bubble up from her chest, and cursed the stupid hormones that continued to run roughshod over her emotions. At least the constant ache in her lower back had stopped as soon as she’d given birth. She fought the urge to pick up Miral and cuddle her close; she didn’t want to risk waking her. It was ridiculous: when she was holding her, she only wanted to put her down and get a break from the constant contact, but when anyone else had her, she just wanted to grab her back and never let her go! 

The doorbell chimed and B’Elanna hurried into the hall to answer it before it could sound again. While she was pregnant, she and Tom had agreed that they wouldn’t adhere to the _don’t wake the baby!_ philosophy, would make sure that Miral could sleep through a red alert klaxon. But the grim reality of a baby who viewed sleep as an enemy to be conquered had quickly changed their minds on that score.

The door opened to the friendly, craggy face of her former teacher. He was a little older, a little greyer, but he had the same dark blue eyes and wide smile that she remembered. Not that he’d smiled at her very often while she’d been his student. “Professor Chapman, come in.” 

“Ms. Torres!” 

B’Elanna stepped back and allowed him to pass, quietly closing the door behind him. “Call me B’Elanna, please,” she said. 

“Then you must call me Paul. Well, just look at you.” He smiled again and took her hand in both of his, held it a moment as he assessed her. His palms were large and warm, with calluses that belied his position as a teacher. “You’re not a cadet anymore,” he stated.

She felt like one though. A sudden wave of uncertainty swept her, quickly followed by irritation. She didn’t have to prove herself to him, didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. 

“We’re in the sitting room.” 

She gestured to the left and led the way down a short hallway and into a bright, sun-filled room at the front of the house, pleased that she’d ended up there instead of in the kitchen. After they’d transplanted themselves from their quarters on _Voyager_ to The Paris’ ancestral home in San Francisco, it had taken her four days to figure out the layout of the place, and it reminded her of her first few weeks navigating the maze-like corridors of _Voyager_. 

She gestured to an overstuffed sofa (for all she knew an actual antique), but her guest’s eyes were drawn to the bassinet sitting atop the large coffee table. 

“Your little one?” he asked. 

“Miral,” B’Elanna supplied. “Would you like to see her?”

Chapman nodded and padded quietly across the floor. He folded his hands across his middle and leaned over to peer into the seagrass basket. He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he inhaled a breath. A common reaction, she’d noted. 

“She’s lovely,” he said, delight in his tone.

“Thank you.” Pride swelled in her. Her baby _was_ lovely! “You sound surprised,” she noted.

He laughed. “Not at all. I’m pleased you’ve started a family at last. Though I am surprised you have just the one child; I always imagined you with half a dozen.”

B’Elanna chuffed a laugh. “Don’t say that to Tom. He’s already planning for number two.” 

He’d thought about her after she left? She’d always assumed that her old professors were glad to have seen the back of her; that they’d given her as little thought as she had them. One more Academy washout among hundreds who weren’t good enough, who weren’t tough enough, weren’t flexible enough to put up with the unbending rigours of Academy protocol.

“My youngest grandchild is a freshman at the Academy,” Chapman said, reading her mind, “and I find I miss the babies.” 

“You must be very proud.”

“Of course,” he acknowledged. “Not as proud as Owen Paris. You’d think no one had ever had a daughter-in-law before, or a granddaughter.”

B’Elanna wasn’t sure what to do with that comment, but Chapman continued, still observing Miral as she slept. “Of course, now that Bill is home, there’s hope for more babies in my future.”

It took her a moment to put it together, and with the sudden flash of insight came the memory of an ill-fated date with Seven and his sprained shoulder. “Lieutenant Chapman is your son?!” It had never occurred to her; she’d never noticed that they shared a name.

“My baby boy,” he agreed. “Though I use his given name, not his rank. Named him after my own father.” 

“Of course.” B’Elanna shook her head. “He never said…” But really, why would he?

“No,” Chapman agreed. “I don’t imagine so. He never did want anyone to think his being my son afforded him any special privileges.” He glanced at her and smiled, and she would have sworn she saw a twinkle in his eye. “And I heard he did well in his last posting.”

“I … yes,” she laughed. “He’s a competent engineer. I could always trust him to do what was required and, well, he got along with everyone.” No harm in bending the truth a wee bit. “Which is more important than you’d think when you’re assigning repair crews…” She paused, recognizing a feeling of déjà vu: a half-forgotten private lecture delivered by the man in front of her.

Miral squirmed and let out a little squeak. B’Elanna held her breath but Professor Chapman looked delighted. He reached down and placed his hand on her chest and she stilled again. B’Elanna had to admit she was impressed. 

“You’ll have to teach me that trick. Coffee?” she asked. 

“Please.” He sat and took a mug, busied himself with cream and sugar, accepted a slice of cake. Took a sip of coffee and nodded. 

“I always knew you were something special, Ms. Torres. B’Elanna. You proved me right. You know, when we heard that _Voyager_ was safe, that you were alive and that Kathryn Janeway had appointed you her chief engineer, well, it was one of my proudest moments.” 

“Thank you.” B’Elanna felt another swell of emotion. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

“Does it? I seem to recall you once told me I was a… now how did you put it? Ah, yes: a puffed up old ass with delusions of grandeur.”

B’Elanna coloured. “I may have had a problem with my temper back then,” she admitted. 

He laughed. “No wonder Owen sings your praises.”

“He’s been very kind. They all have.” She stared into his open, friendly face and tried to remember why she’d thought him so hard and cruel back then. She glanced down at her hands, gathered her thoughts. “Captain Janeway told me, back when we were first pulled into the Delta Quadrant, that you stood up for me, after I left the Academy. When she told me about the letter you put in my permanent record, before she made me chief…” She shook her head, “To be honest, I didn’t really believe her at the time, but I wanted to. It helped me believe that I could actually do the job. I wanted to thank you for that.” 

He smiled. “There’s no need, but it is appreciated. I wasn’t the only one, you know. Several of my compatriots were sad to see you leave. You were one of the most talented students I’ve ever had the pleasure to teach.”

She shook her head. “It didn’t feel like it at the time. Every theory I had, every idea I came up with, you smacked it down.”

“Of course I did.” He reached over and patted her hand. “Bright students need to be challenged. They need to prove their theories. It was my job to make you think deeper. You deserve whatever praise you’re given, you know. And, if I recall correctly, whatever censure as well. At least you did, ten years ago.”

She laughed. “Yes, I suppose I did.” She stilled a moment, glanced at Miral. A little line of drool had escaped her mouth and dribbled down her chin. 

“And from what I hear, you did remarkably well as chief. Bill sings your praises. So, tell me,” he said, after taking another sip of his coffee, “how did you find it, adapting to a state-of-the-art ‘fleet ship after servicing decrepit rust-buckets with your Maquis brethren?”

“It was a little daunting,” she admitted. “I was surprised when I found out that people were so invested in _Voyager_ making it back home. Besides the families, I mean.”

“Oh, well, you can’t keep the disappearance of an Intrepid-class starship a secret for long. Too many family members involved. You were like the _Mary Celeste_ of her day. Quite the mystery. Then, when we found out you were safe, it was in the middle of the war with the Dominion. We needed the moral boost.”

“We’ve been fielding calls from reporters with the FNS. They seem particularly interested in the former Maquis crew.” Her mouth twisted in a wry expression.

“Everyone likes a happy ending,” he noted. “A story of redemption.”

“I don’t think any of us felt we needed to be redeemed.” She bristled a little at the implied insult. 

“I suppose not,” he agreed, “considering you wore those rank bars instead of pips.” At her raised eyebrow, he nodded. “Bill has been filling me in a little.”

“Of course.”

“Not that your fate was a surprise,” he said.

“My fate? You mean you knew…”

“That you’d joined the Maquis after you left us? We all knew, at the time. And the rumors were confirmed after _Voyager_ was declared lost, then found, when your EMH made contact with Starfleet Command.

“We knew about you, Chakotay, Cal Hudson. Ro Laren. Gossip was rampant; it was quite the hot topic of conversation. Quite the furor. We knew about Tom’s fall from grace, too, though most of us had the good manners to refrain from mentioning it, at least when Owen was around.”

B’Elanna sat, stunned. It had never occurred to her that the news would travel back to Earth. She shook her head. “I didn’t think anyone would remember me.”

Chapman smiled again, his expression going soft. “You’re unforgettable, B’Elanna. Though I suppose there are a few young ‘uns who don’t know the legend of B’Elanna Torres. I suppose that’s changed now.” 

She laughed and he changed the topic.

“ _Voyager’s_ gel pack technology, how did you handle it?”

She shrugged. “It was…easy. Intuitive. Though,” she huffed a laugh, “there was one time when the ship caught a virus. You think babies can spew!” She caught herself, but he laughed, and she joined in. 

Miral grunted and they both glanced into the bassinet. She flung a tiny fist over her head, and B’Elanna wondered if she was truly waking this time. She caught Chapman’s hopeful expression, then his little shrug when Miral remained asleep. 

“I was surprised that they’d held up so well,” he said, picking up the thread of the conversation, “considering the strain you put them under.”

“Actually, by the time we made our attempt at opening the conduit, we were down to less than two dozen replacement packs. I was starting to get worried.”

“And already working on a new system, no doubt. Such a playground for you…” 

He shook his head and she wondered if he regretted leaving the field to settle in the Academy and teach. She assumed he’d been on active duty at some point. There was so much she didn’t know about him.

“Well, yes.” The Delta Quadrant as a playground; that was one way of looking at it. “I never could convince them to mate and make little gel pack babies.”

“That was something that surprised me, when Barclay got that link up and running. When Bill told me that so few of you _Voyagers_ had married and had children in the last seven years.”

“ _Voyagers_?” Her eyebrow shot up.

“A little bit of foreshadowing that rather delighted me once I knew you were all alive and well.”

Her face fell. “Not all. We lost a lot of people when we were first pulled into the Delta Quadrant and during the journey home.” She thought of Joe Carey, and not for the first time had to push aside her resentment that Admiral Janeway hadn’t managed to come to them a few weeks sooner, to save him, too. “I think… I think that’s why there were so few of us who…” She paused, mindful of the fact that this man had a son onboard _Voyager_. “I think we were all afraid to form any deep attachments, just in case.”

He nodded. “Well then, you were very brave.” He gestured to the cradle and the baby sleeping within it.

B’Elanna let loose a little puff of air, felt her cheeks warm. “Actually, she was an accident.”

“Now, now, Ms Torres. There are no accidents in an engine room. Just—”

“Engineers who are unprepared. I remember.”

Miral chose that moment to finally wake. She stretched and grunted, gave a little squeak, and opened her eyes. She gazed upward, her eyes unfocused, her little face scrunched up in preparation to howl.

“May I?” Chapman asked, his own expression hopeful.

“You can try.” B’Elanna smiled. “But she has a rather keen sense of smell already, and she can tell when someone is a stranger. Actually, she prefers Tom over anyone. When he’s home, he has to carry her all the time.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Chapman said, standing and reaching into the bassinet. “Hello, little love. Did you have pleasant dreams?” He lifted her and settled her into the crook of his arm, apparently having forgotten nothing about holding newborns in the eighteen years since his last grandchild was born. He was smiling at Miral, her tiny fist squeezing his finger, her little mouth opened in an O. “There’s something special about a new baby, isn’t there? That soft, warm weight.”

There was. “Don’t take it personally if she cries.”

“Have you made any future plans?” He was still gazing at Miral, and it took B’Elanna a moment to realize he was speaking to her, not the baby.

“Not really. Just being back, it’s a lot to take in. And Starfleet still wants to debrief us.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “I assume they’re combing through your logs.”

“Probably,” she agreed. 

“I hear Kathryn Janeway ran a tight ship.” He glanced at her and his eyes sparkled with humour.

Had he also heard about Tom’s time in the ship’s brig… ? His demotion? Unlikely. She couldn’t imagine Bill gossiping. “We stuck to protocol as best as we could.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing that _Voyager_ was the ship that survived instead of your little Maquis _wasp_.” 

Miral was dozing again as Chapman rocked her gently. “I guess so,” she agreed. She couldn’t imagine Chakotay squeezing ninety Starfleet crew onto the _Val Jean_. 

“So, I was asking about your future plans, beyond this lovely young lady. It would be a shame if you were to resign your commission. Starfleet needs minds like yours.”

“I…” She paused. “I haven’t given it much thought. My rank is provisional, and since we’re not in the Delta Quadrant anymore…”

“You’re not a chief engineer anymore?” He shook his head. “I’ve seen Starfleet make some bone-headed decisions in my time, but if they let you slip away a second time, well, they’ll deserve it. The truth is, after the toll the war with the Dominion took on us, we need all the creative minds we can get.”

“I didn’t even graduate, and besides, I’m on parental leave for the next year. But I can’t imagine a regular Starfleet crew being happy taking orders from an Academy dropout.” She lifted a hand and shrugged. “And I’m a little old to become a cadet now.”

“You could write exams.”

“They want me to sit my exams?!” The idea horrified her. “Starfleet technology has advanced so much since I’ve been in school…” She thought of what the Doctor had told her about the _Prometheus_ , about the refit she was certain _Voyager_ was about to undergo. “It would take me months to catch up, maybe years.”

“I said ‘write’ not ‘sit’. Compose them. I figure you’re qualified. In fact, you could give a class in seat-of-your-pants engineering wizardry, along the lines of your Delta Quadrant battle experiences.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking!” Her voice rose and she glanced at her snoozing daughter, then immediately lowered it again. 

“Not at all.”

“I… I couldn’t possibly teach—”

“Believe me,” Chapman assured her, “if there’s one thing that skirmish with the Dominion made more than clear, it’s that our engineers need to learn to think on their feet. On a battleground, you don’t have the luxury of a starbase engineering crew to rebuild whatever gets blown to kingdom-come.”

B’Elanna thought of all the times she and her crew had had to do just that; all the times they’d had to bring shields back online, or jury-rig life support or a force field while under enemy fire. Times when a minute seemed like an eternity. 

“I hadn’t really thought of it. When you’re in the heat of battle and the engines go offline, you just do what you have to do. Sure, sometimes you have to bypass other systems, but…” But that was obvious. Wasn’t it? 

“My point exactly. We’ve become so systemized in our thinking, in the way we design our ships: protocol, checklists, backup systems for the backup systems.” He smiled down at Miral again, “I’ve begun to wonder if we’re not doing our students a disservice in not encouraging more flexibility in their thinking.”

And again B’Elanna was reminded of how difficult it had been to get Captain Janeway’s approval whenever she wanted to tinker with _Voyager_ , starting with her plan to convert the impulse reactor into a dilithium refinery. She shook her head. All those redundant systems did no good when Tom lost helm control because he couldn’t interface with the computer.

“It’s a lot to consider,” she admitted.

“And I can see that your exceptional brain is already turning it over.”

“I…I’m not sure I’d have the time to even think about it.” She gestured to the baby, who gave a little wail as she woke again. “A full semester course?”

Chapman petted Miral’s head then handed her over to B’Elanna. “You could certainly give a seminar. Why not? I could carve you out some space with my third years, though I’m sure that all of my students would want to attend, even that grandson of mine though he’s taken it into his head to become a doctor and mend bodies instead of ships.”

B’Elanna smiled, already deciding that she would have to introduce him to the Doctor. She stared into Miral’s eyes, a dark, muddy colour that could still turn blue like her daddy’s though she rather doubted it. 

“You could write the syllabus. What would we call the class? ‘How to survive what the textbook doesn't cover’?”

“To be honest, I could have used a class like that myself.” Miral let out another squawk. She turned her head and rubbed B’Elanna’s chest, and she felt a tugging sensation, the fullness as her milk rushed in and filled her breasts.

“There you go.” He reached for Miral’s tiny fist and held it gently. “It was a pleasure meeting you young lady, but I should take my leave and let you get on with the business of growing.”

B’Elanna was relieved. As pleasant as their conversation had been, she wasn’t prepared to nurse her baby in front of her former teacher. Chapman stood, and she followed him to the door. He paused on the doorstep and rested his fingers on Miral’s belly, touched B’Elanna’s arm. “I’m delighted that you’re home safe, B’Elanna, and that you’ve started a family. But think about what I said.”

“I will,” she promised. There was no way she could get the idea out of her head now. She was sure he was counting on that. 

He smiled and nodded. “Keep in touch.” He turned to move down the porch steps toward the street, and paused, gesturing to the sky. “A banana moon,” he said. “When Bill was small, he called a crescent moon a banana in the sky.”

B’Elanna glanced across the street at the waxing moon, just visible above the treetops in Lafayette Park. It did look a bit like a banana, hanging against the pale blue sky. She smiled at the image and waved to her former professor, then shut the door behind him. 

Back in the sitting room, she chose a comfortable chair and arranged some cushions, then settled down to nurse her baby. She could see Bill’s banana moon through the window, and it reminded her of song Tom sang occasionally, just after they’d been married. She’d told him it made no sense, considering they were in a starship travelling through space, but he’d sung it enough times that she’d learned the lyrics. 

She sang it now as she watched Miral nurse. Later, she might consider Chapman’s offer, but for now Tom and Miral were enough.

 

_Banana moon is shining in the sky,_  
_Feel like I'm in heaven when you're with me_  
_Know that I'm in heaven when you smile,_  
_Though we're stuck here on the ground, I got something that I've found_  
_And it's you._

**Author's Note:**

> Song Lyrics:
> 
> Tom Waits  
> "Little Trip To Heaven (On The Wings Of Your Love)"  
> From the album, Closing Time  
> 1973 Asylum Records. Fifth Floor Music Inc.


End file.
